


Freebird

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-14
Updated: 2007-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:59:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord help him, he can't change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freebird

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Porn Battle](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/317183.html). Prompt was "Supernatural, Dean/Ellen, car hood."
> 
> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works. 

"What's the matter, darlin'?" Ellen propped her chin on her elbows and her elbows on the hood of the Impala.

"Kinda dying in a year here, Ellen."

"Never thought I'd see the day when a Winchester cries over the bad hand life dealt him."

"I'm not crying!" Dean lowered his voice. "I just don't know what to do."

She studied him from under lowered lashes. "What do you mean?"

"There's only so much time," he said. "I've got to make sure Sammy's okay, I've got to make sure my baby here is taken care of…" He ran his hand over the hood of the car. "Sammy wouldn't know what to do with her, you know? And Bobby, well, he just wouldn't treat her right."

"Bobby knows better than nearly anyone what to do with a car." Ellen lowered her arm and rested her palm flat on the paint, resisting the urge to look up and see if Dean was going to whip out a cloth and polish her fingerprints away.

"That isn't what I mean." After looking both ways to make sure no one could hear, he leaned in close to Ellen and whispered. "This car, she's used to certain things. She needs the right kind of music, she needs to sometimes hit a buck twenty, and she needs the touch of a woman."

"Well why didn't you say so? I would be delighted to take this car off your hands. I'll do a buck twenty on the back roads while playing Freebird and running my womanly hands all over her steering wheel." Ellen laughed and swatted his arm. "That's one problem solved, now you can work on your others."

"I'm not saying she wouldn't love your," he waggled his eyebrows, "womanly touch and all, but that's not how she likes to be touched."

Dean walked around the car until he was standing next to her. He leaned his hips against the hood and propped his heel on the bumper. Ellen peered at him out of the corner of her eye; the boy was his father all over again, far too serious and charming for his own good. She pushed herself up on one hand and twisted until she was half-facing him.

"Really." They both watched as she lifted her free hand and reached out toward him with one finger extended, coming near his chest but not touching. "Let me guess how _she_ likes to be touched."

"Does she like it slow, Dean? Does she like just a little bit of teasing before you get down to it?" Ellen grazed the skin at his throat with the tip of her finger. "No, any car that likes to go as fast as yours wouldn't want that, would she?"

He turned around, snake fast, and lifted her by her hips until she was seated on the edge of the car. He pushed her further up the hood then stepped between her open legs. He put his hands outside her thighs and leaned in close until she could feel the heat rising off him.

"My car," he said, pressing his forearms into her legs, "likes the feel of a woman's thighs resting on her hood." He slid his hands up her hips and hooked his thumbs into her waistband. "She likes it better when that woman's naked."

He left his fingers on her jeans, but pulled back so he wasn't touching her body at all. "What do you say, Ellen?"

"Oh, fuck, Winchester, just get on with it." She thrust her heel into the back of his knee and he fell forward onto her.

"All I needed to hear." He smirked as he undid her pants, playing his fingers over her stomach as he bared it. "You're making the Impala very happy, Ellen."

She lifted her hips so he could pull her jeans and panties down her leg. She toed her shoes off and wriggled to help him. He pulled her forward and they both laughed as her ass thumped on the hood when he dropped her.

He fell to his knees in the dirt and pushed her legs apart. "Fuck. You need to be closer." He put his hands under her ass and lifted her toward him. He raised her higher and nudged her right leg with his shoulder. "Up," he mumbled. "Over me. Now."

When she obeyed, he parted her with his fingers and ran his thumbs over her clit. Ellen lost her balance when he drove his tongue inside her and her leg slipped, foot banging over his back as it fell. "Sorry."

Dean tightened his hand on her hip. "Fuck, woman, now that's as close as I need you." He ignored the kicking of her heel and lifted her other leg over his shoulder. He tightened his grip on the inside of her knee and spread her legs wide until she could feel them stretching at her inner thighs.

"Oh, god," she gasped out. She could feel Dean laughing against her pussy. "No, you idiot, I can hear someone outside."

He lifted his head and she almost laughed at how he looked, wild-eyed, with his hair sticking up, panicked face rising from between her thighs.

"Finish," she ordered. "Quick. Do it now, Dean. Just fucking do it."

"But." He started to object, then shook his head, grinning. "Right, what am I thinking?" He rose up again when she barely stifled her scream. "Fuck, Ellen."

"Oh, god." Her pants dissolved into giggles. "Jesus. You got some mouth on you, Dean."

"You are going to get us caught," he said, carefully spacing the words out. "Going to traumatize my fragile flower of a brother, not to mention that Bobby may well kick my ass."

She slammed her heel into his shoulder blade. "Well, I'd tell you to be less good, but that wouldn't be as fun."

"Just, jesus," he shook his head. "I don't know, be quiet."

"Well how the hell would you like me to do that?"

For a minute there she thought they were going to have to stop, but then his hand rose up over the hood, her green panties dangling from his fingers. "I have got a brilliant idea."

Ellen practically tore the panties out of his hand with her teeth, didn't object at all as he placed them in her mouth. "Quiet now," he said, running his thumb over her lips. "Dean's gonna take good care of you."

She rolled her eyes and pushed his head back down to her pussy, spreading her legs as wide as she could to give him better access. He cupped her cheek in his hand and there was something in his expression she couldn't identify. It was gone before she could figure it out, replaced by that Winchester smirk.

"Quick," was the last thing she heard before he buried his head between her thighs. He dispensed with all the gentle foreplay and sucked her clit into his mouth, playing his teeth over it. He'd bite gently, then suck, occasionally pulling back to lick her while she wriggled above him.

They both jumped when they heard a voice drawing nearer, and he redoubled his efforts, pushing his fingers inside her and concentrating his efforts on her swollen clit. She managed to be quiet when she came, clenching her hands on the bottom of her shirt and biting down on the panties in her mouth.

"Fuck," she said when she was done and was slipping her damp panties up her legs. "If that's the kind of womanly touch your car needs, I'm up for it anytime, Dean. You just say the word."

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and grinned at her. He put his arms around her and kissed her full on the mouth. "Ya know, Ellen," he said, pushing his pelvis into hers, zipper scraping across her panties. "My car isn't the only thing that needs a womanly touch."

"Toss me my pants," she said. "And meet me in my room after you put Sammy to bed."

As she was walking away, she looked back over her shoulder. Dean was busily polishing the smears off the hood of the Impala with his t-shirt while he hummed Freebird. Just like a Winchester.


End file.
